


To Kill a Turtledove

by NewLeeland



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: (i guess), Baze and Chirrut are owls, Bodhi is a rook, Don't expect: Sense, Everyone is a Turtledove, F/M, Humor, Kay is Human, Krennic is a cat, Light Anti-Snape-Feelings, Or a great plot, Tarkin is a garbage man, The most ludicrous AU ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11360790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewLeeland/pseuds/NewLeeland
Summary: The most ludicrous AU you'll ever read. Turtledoves Jyn and Cassian pick poor Kay's balcony as the ideal place to build their nest. But cat Krennic holds a grudge against the Erso birds. However, they are not alone...





	1. Don't Be Like Snape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jenniferjun1per](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenniferjun1per/gifts).



> I have no idea how this came into existentence or how I got the idea. A few people said they would read it, so. As the tags say, don't expect anything but weirdness.
> 
> For jenniferjun1per, who encouraged me. And of course for Kobo, who betaed even this crazy story. :)

* * *

It was common knowledge that the big central park of the city, filled with soft, green meadows and shade-giving trees, was the place to be when you felt the need to relax and forget the worries loaded upon you at work. Yet it utterly failed to mollify or calm Jackson Persushint.

At age 28, he had long since given up the dreams young men and women often had: being rich, famous and maybe even loved by more people than you would ever need. No, corporate business had been quick to introduce him to the harsh realities of life. So he had lowered his expectations years ago. He didn’t hate his job too much, had a steady paycheck that allowed to have a comfortable life and a family on his own one day seemed realistic.

That was until his girlfriend accepted Andrew’s proposal earlier this afternoon. His memories were shady, suppressed by grief and even more numbing anger. He would take revenge on them. A few plans were already coming together in his head, one more cruel than the other one. Yes, just a few more minutes to calm down. Then, he would plaster a smile on his face, pull through the rest of his day and start with his project that he in a sudden delusion of grandeur called “Operation Mistletoe”.

It was pure coincidence that his eyes spotted an ugly, white cat prowling through the bushes on the other side of the small gravelled pathway. Jackson had sat down on a bench and failed to recognize the big willow tree whose branches even gave shade to the bench on the other side of the path.

On one of these branches, he now saw a nest, carefully made in hours of patient work by a pair of turtledoves. Both swooned about a newly hatched turtledove, just big enough to make her beak visible even from the bench. The chick couldn’t be old, a few days at the most.

Jackson watched with fascination as both adult turtledoves swung their heads together, touching each other in an intimate way that almost made Jackson look away to preserve their privacy. Then, the male turtledove spread its wings and left the nest. No doubt that it was looking for food for their hungry newcomer.

While the motherbird did her best to calm her hungry chick, Jackson realized that the cat had been observing the pair of parent birds with an expression he would describe as a mixture of hate and envy. He had never realized that the facial expressions of animals could be so familiar and so comparable to those of their human counterparts.

All plans of revenge forgotten, Jackson watched as the ugly white cat - were white cats common, he couldn’t remember - set into motion. With careful strides it approached the tree, digging its claws into the trunk and proceeding to climb. Its destination was clear: the nest of the turtledoves, now only protected by a tired looking motherbird.

Jackson couldn’t explain it: It was weird how he felt the need to defend the poor little birds, but still did not move an inch on the bench. When the cat arrived at the branch with the nest, he could swear a tyrannic smile plastered its face.

The mother bird had recognized the impending danger and without a second of hesitation swung around to attack the furry menace. Beak blazing, she charged, hitting the cat in the shoulder. But her success was short lived. With one angry swing of the paw, the ugly cat swept the mother bird away, who tumbled down the tree and out of sight.

In the nest, the chick could do nothing but scream even louder. Jackson’s desire to help grew, but there was nothing he could do. The idea to throw one of the stones that composed the pathway eluded him.

But it wasn’t needed, as just as the cat was about to devour the helpless chick, another male turtledove appeared and despite never looking at these birds twice before, he knew it wasn’t the father of the young chick. This turtledove looked younger, but just as angry as the mother was. With his tiny clawed feet, it slammed into the flabbergasted cat.

The impact was enough to lose the grip the furry creature had on the branch and it fell to the ground, hitting every single branch on the way down.

Being a cat, it wasn’t hurt too much, but Jackson could swear its pride was severely dented.

On the branch, the male turtledove looked at the now silent chick with something akin to adoration. When the mother bird appeared, looking shaken but unhurt, they exchanged a brief looked and he was sure that it was gratefulness. Then, the young male departed.

A few minutes later, the father bird came back, carrying a snail in his peak that he immediately fed to the hungry chick, who calmed down a bit. Jackson had never given much on romantic comedies, but the reunion between the tiny bird family - the male had recognized the dazed state of his wife and immediately enveloped her in some kind of hug - nearly brought tears to his eyes.

On the ground, the cat lurked away, but before vanishing in the bushes, it fixed the branch with a glare as angry as anyone he had ever seen. It felt like it vowed revenge.

And out of the blue, Jackson’s anger lifted as he suddenly made a connection between his situation, the cat and the favorite novel series of his childhood. A realization he would later term the “Snape-Reaction”.

Just because his love for a person wasn’t reciprocated gave him absolutely no right to become an aweful person, sabotage other people’s lives and be a complete and utter scumbag because of it. No. If he really loved her, he would want her to be happy, even if she was happy without him. And if he didn’t love her so much that he would want her to be happy - if he didn’t love her as much as those two birds loved each other - not having her in his life wasn’t a loss.

Little did he know when he left the bench minutes, all ideas of revenge plans gone, that his life would change for the better on the next day.


	2. A Not So Okay Day for Kay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Kay prefers a life free of interaction with living beings. But even the most withdrawn of all humans can't ignore the strange pair of birds that have decided to built a nest on his balcony.

* * *

 

He was a master of numbers. But no statistic could have told him how annoying those two birds would be.

Strictly speaking, James Kay found all lifeforms annoying. Their need to socialize, to talk about their problems and meaningless chit-chat you had to listen to because society demanded it. He never understood why, even as a young child.

All the more important was it to have some sort of safe space where he could retreat to. At work, there was a minimum amount of socializing and speaking required. Even a statistician for the government had to interact sometimes. At the gates to be let in, with the one or two colleagues who worked in the same department and of course with morons from higher up who lacked the intelligence to understand perfectly clear statistics.

His third-floor-apartment was in a weird part of the town. Not too close to city centre - and not too close to annoying tourists from all over the world asking for directions - and not too close to the suburbs with loud and noisy parents and their even noisier children. Enough stores close by to avoid lengthy shopping trips and not enough to attract people from other parts of the city. All other necessities apart from food and drinks he could order online, delivered to his doorstep. Yes, that once again required interaction, but usually, the guys from UPS were far too busy for lengthy talks.

There were only few neighbors and as his working shift started rather early, most of them didn’t even know him. All in all, the maximum number of people he had seen in a day for the last few years was about ten, usually below. One bright July day he had managed to make it through without even a single interaction, as even the guardsmen at the gate had not been working.

If he would have interacted more with his colleagues, he would have discovered that they would describe him as a very strange chap and sincerely believed that there was nothing else but numbers that interested him in life.

That was not correct. Yes, numbers were a vast part of it. But while his colleagues saw numbers only as what they were, Kay saw what they stood for. Be it people (shucks!), money, material or even such impalpable terms as “growth”, “profit”, “progress”. All these numbers painted a picture of parts of the world for him, brighter, more beautiful and more detailed that even the best artist could.

On this particular afternoon, work had ended earlier, as all employees of the wing his office was in had taken leave to enjoy a long weekend. He would have preferred to carry on working, but for once he could understand the decision of his superiors. It would be ineffective to keep it open for a few hours longer just for one person and had therefore indulged them.

Some of his work, less important and therefore less classified, could be done at home. Therefore, he had settled down on his couch with his laptop and a cup of fine Earl Grey tea. For half an hour, everything was fine. Until he heard loud chirping from his small balcony.

He never had much use for it. It was too small to properly work there and the noise of the street below as well as the wind were further points speaking against any form of use.

That was until two weeks ago, a pair of turtledoves decided to built a nest there.

Kay had ignored them at first, too busy with his schedule to pay much attention to the balcony. That was until some loud, indistinguishable noises caught his attention one evening. Slightly curious, he had taken a look at the nest the two birds had built in the sharp gable of the balcony. A rather impressive feet, he had to admit. However, the male and the female bird - a quick googling had made it possible for him to identify them as turtledoves - were quite vocal and seemed to be fighting, no, arguing a lot.

He had absolutely no explanation why he watched them interact for nearly half an hour until the male turtledove seemingly relented and settled beside his companion in the nest. Only the sound of the microwave signaling that his food was ready had stopped his observations.

Removing the nest would have been not all too hard, but it was a dirty work and it seemed overall easier to tolerate their presence instead of forcibly removing their new home. Plus, the male bird was actually not all too bad. While the female turtledove was away, he often sat in the nest brooding, scanning the vicinity for potential threats. Though he would never admit it, Kay found him quite likeable.

The female turtledove was a different story. She wasn’t necessarily aggressive, but very determined. When her mate brought material for the nest she found unfit, she just threw it off the balcony. And when the neighbor down below decided to smoke on his gallery she made extra sure that all kinds of debris were thrown off the balcony every time he went outside to tar his lungs. At one of the rare occasions Kay had actually opened the door and went outside, she had angrily glared at his back until he finally retreated inside the house.

The sounds he heard today and that got his thoughts away from the prognosis for frozen concentrated orange juice seemed to be cheerful upon closer listening.

Before he really could think about - an alarming procedure he had to revisit later - he had made it to the window. Close to the nest sat two very excited birds, looking upon two small round eggs that now lay in the centre of it.

Kay couldn’t help but noticed how different and yet similar both birds behaved. The male was rather calm, but his posture was full of pride and happiness. The female one positively crooned, watching the eggs with a look of pure adoration that made Kay feel like he was trespassing in a moment that was not meant for him.

On the other hand, it was his balcony. As much as it wasn’t his forte, even Kay knew that young birds - just like young humans - were noisy, hungry creatures and once they had hatched, it would be significantly harder to concentrate in his sanctuarium. Statistically speaking, it was 64% more likely for him to be disturbed now than before.

However, he also calculated how likely it would be that he would suffer greatly should he try to remove the nest and the eggs. The female bird already was dangerous looking and his thin knowledge on birds and their nesting behavior suggested the male would respond just as furious at any disturbance upon his offspring.

With a heavy sigh, Kay resigned himself to his fate. It was kinda fitting for this not-so-okay-day.

Neither he, nor the soon-to-be-bird-parents saw an ugly white cat watching the scene from a trash can in the alley vis-a-vis the building before disappearing in the shadows.


	3. I’m the Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a menacing encounter with Krennic, Galen asks Bodhi the Rook to warn Jyn and Cassian. But prior to this, he has to make it through a run-in with Saw and his gang of birds of prey.

* * *

 

Bird Galen had always been a rather uncommon member of his species. Since he was a little chick, he had always searched for new ways to find food, warmth, shelter, how to built better and stronger nests. His antics had taken up so much of his time that his parents always wondered if Galen would one day spent time building an actual nest for his own chicks and not just out of curiosity. When Galen finally met Lyra, a rather determined female bird, they had been delighted.

Even Galen did not know why the ugly looking white cat targeted his family ever since. All his experiments had been peaceful, always set on improving the life of the birds, not searching for ways to hurt their natural predators. Nevertheless, the cat seemed to follow them wherever Galen and Lyra went.

The park had been as far out as their natural habitat as he dared to go considering they soon had a hungry, but beautiful chick to feed. Despite the distance to other birds, they were happy there, focusing on raising and most of all feeding little Jyn, who was a curious little being, just like her parents.

Until the cat found them one day. He had never forgotten the terror he felt upon returning to the nest only to see the cat hovering over Jyn, Lyra out of the picture. He knew she would have never left their chick, so the most dreadful feelings immediately rose up in him. Still, his resolve steeled. He had to protect Jyn.

As it turned out, it wasn’t necessary. Another young turtledove somehow had found its way to the park and although rather small, its attack unbalanced the cat, who fell down the branches. Galen, frozen in mid-air, arrived too late to thank the male, who exchanged a look with a shaken but otherwise well Lyra and departed. Galen gave the snail he carried to a hungry and oblivious Jyn before enveloping Lyra in a bird-counterpart of a hug.

They thought this had been the end of it. Jyn grew from day to day and the cat vanished from their lives. The young male, Cassian, reappeared now and then and it was obvious that there was an affection between him and the now adult Jyn. Just like their parents, Galen and Lyra had bid them farewell once they left to built their own nest.

The older birds had followed an invitation of their friends Baze and Chirrut, a rare pair of male birds that lived near an old abandoned, yet still cozy house a few kilometres outside the city. It was a quieter life, with easier food, less hectic and good company. Human beings only rarely visited the grounds for short periods of time until they departed again. Galen dedicated his time to his wife and his experiments, which had been far less important as long as Jyn was there.

His search for better nesting material had let him to the far boundaries of the estate, close to the small paved road that connected the premises to a larger road that led to the city. Bird Galen was so engrossed in his search that he did not notice the ugly cat that had sneaked upon him until it purred, a mean, low sound. For a moment, he was frozen, but when he finally turned around, the cat made no move to attack. Instead, it established eye contact before raising his paw. Beneath it lay an eggshell, the chick it once protected long since grown up. Gleefully, the cat let his paw descend, crushing the white shell into tiny little pieces. With a satisfied grimace, the cat turned around and departed.

Galen instantly knew the meaning. The last thing he heard from Jyn was that she and Cassian were having some chicks of their own soon. He couldn’t comprehend how the cat found out, but the threat was clear. The target wasn’t Galen anymore - it was his legacy.

He needed to warn Jyn, but his old wings were tired and would never make it on time. He needed a young bird, a quick flyer, but also brave enough to leave his comfort zone around here to warn Jyn and Cassian.

He needed Bodhi.  


* * *

 

It was a pity Bodhi never knew that contrary to what often happened to him, rooks like him were once seen as symbols of wisdom. After all, the Greek god Apollon had declared rooks to be holy and for Norse god Odin, two of them named Huginn and Muninn served as his eyes and ears in Miðgarðr.

Sadly, their closeness to these old religions is what condemned the rook in many medieval societies as a bird of bad luck.

Being a bird and understanding not a thing humans said or thought, he couldn’t care less.

However, what the crazy bird Saw thought of him was abundantly clear and he did very much care about that. Not that he thought highly about the old black kite, just the opposite. But right now, Saw and his gang of four other black kites had poor Bodhi surrounded.

Baze and Chirrut didn’t care if he was around their sanctuary, but Saw was a bird of another feather. He was rather old, scarred and clearly not right in his mind. Lyra once explained to Bodhi that this was due to fights with other members of his species, but Baze had told him Saw merely was too dumb to fly straight and had hit way too many trees in the past.

Bodhi was firmly convinced it was the latter.

Be that as it may, although a bird of prey, Saw - and his small gang of devoted and just as brain-damaged followers - patrolled the premises like a private army, harassing any bird that tried to enter without their consent. Surprisingly, they never attacked any of them with the intention to kill and eat. The only good part of Saw’s philosophy he told everyone who was crazy enough to listen was that the birds - all birds - were embroiled in a permanent war against other living beings, especially humans and mammals. Attacking their own kind, no matter how delicious, was treason and would be punished.

In the past, the rest of the small bird community did not care too much, silently glad that they had their own predators as protection, as crazy and deluded they may be. For Bodhi however, the situation was dire.

Due to unknown events, Saw had grown even more crazy in the past. Bodhi, who enjoyed flying, often left the premises to discover the world around it, sometimes visiting relatives in the city or just searching for spots with an even more beautiful view than the roof of the house could offer.

An eery feeling had convinced Bodhi to abort his latest trip, but upon returning, he had been stopped by Saw and his feathery goons. For hours, he had to endure Saw’s delusional jabbering about “keeping their borders closed”, “internal security”, “closing the ranks” and “traitors all around”. Even a shy and restrained bird as Bodhi would have exploded by now, but Saw’s followers kept close guard on him. Despite not having eaten another bird since forever, their talons were still sharp and Bodhi didn’t dare to risk escape.

Lost in his litany, Saw did not notice that behind his back, a very angry looking turtledove arrived. Only when she whacked him across his head with her left wing and started giving him a good telling-off, he became aware of her presence and - being him - attempted to fob her off with his usual talk about security and traitors.

Bodhi did not know what had agitated Lyra this much. Yes, she was a passionate bird, but still, her violent behavior was unnatural. When Saw tried to explain himself, she started picking at his head. Despite being larger and more dangerous, it only took seconds till Saw relented, spreading his wings and fleeing from a still angrily twittering Lyra, his gang in tow.

Before he knew what was happening to him, Bodhi had been dragged off by a furious Lyra. As a wise rook, he remained completely quiet and endured another, if more understandable rant.

She immediately went silent once they had reached a very old and worried looking Galen. Bodhi’s concern grew immediately. Galen was a wise and friendly bird and had treated Bodhi like a son. Just like Baze and Chirrut, he never had said a bad word about the rook and Bodhi was grateful for it.

When Galen mentioned that the ugly white cat he had warned them a long time ago had returned and threatened Jyn, Bodhi was immediately ready to help. He wasn’t a brave bird, at least he didn’t think of himself as one. He and Jyn had been raised together, he knew her since she was able to fly. He had met Cassian only once, but it had been enough to convince him that his adoration of Jyn was total. It had pained him when they left their home to built their own nest, but he was still happy for them.

Galen was fidgeting, while Lyra was sitting beside him, softly purring. When the older bird finally asked his question, Bodhi needed no convincing. After many thanks from Galen and Lyra, well-wishes and directions, Bodhi rose up into the air, his heart full of worry and his eyes on the city on the horizon.

Was he afraid of flying into the big city where so many dangerous creatures lived? Yes. Was he afraid the cat would find them first? Yes. Was he afraid of flying so far and leaving home behind? Yes. Would he let it stop him? No.

Bodhi the Rook might not think of himself as a brave bird, but he was one.

As he soared through the air, desperately trying to even the head start the cat must have, one thought dominated his brain:

I am the messenger. I am the messenger. I am the messenger.


	4. A Garbage’s Life for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Former politician and current garbage man William Tarkin considers waging war against the feline pest. In the meantime, Kay observes some strange events unfolding on his balcony.

* * *

If any nosy reporter ever found out, it would make a nice headline. “Tarkin - From Senate candidate to the gutter.”

For William Tarkin, it was a matter of principle. If he couldn’t clean up the Senate, he would have to clean up something else. And if it were the trash cans and refuse containers of the city, so be it.

It was hard to have a well-founded opinion of the elder man. Especially after the death of his beloved wife, he was rather seclusive and his ideas had grown more firm. They weren’t radical against persons and groups per se, but radical itself. Too rigorous and extreme, his critics had said and maybe they were right. Maybe they weren’t. Only the future would tell.

Cleaning up the city was far from glorious, but when he came home after a long day at work, he felt cleaner than back when he was a politician. This sort of garbage he could wash off, the smell would fade.

His latest tours, however, had one major irk. An ugly white cat always rummaged in one particular trash can, spreading its contents in the entire alley. As a tidy man, Tarkin was obliged to pick it up while the cat looked at him with pure condescendence.

Once, he had been fine with it. Twice, it was annoying. The third time, he was close to throwing one particularly dirty can at the animal.

If he would meet it again today, he would have to teach the animal a clear and unmistakable lesson.

* * *

 

It was worrying how much of Kay’s time had been spent on the research of the nesting behavior of turtledoves. At first, he had been able to justify his extensive googling with claiming that the more he knew about their expected behavior, the better he could find and apply countermeasures. Not that Kay needed any justification, after all, he did not talk to anyone about it. Why would he?

And if he spent more time at the door to the balcony, studying his feathery subtenants - who cared.

It was early evening in summer, so it was still very bright outside. Kay had come home from work half an hour ago and like every day, had made himself a cup of Earl Grey tea while some chicken from the day before was getting reheated in the microwave.

It felt strange, eating poultry while two members of a relative species to the one he was about to devour were peacefully nesting just a few feet away.

Male and female bird were rather placid today, each sitting on one of the eggs, looking satisfied and content. Kay did not know it, but the male had been particularly active, flying a great many metres to find new hunting grounds. Right now, they were able to feed themselves effortlessly, but things would change once their children hatched.

He was about to go back to the kitchen and prepare his meal when a dark bird appeared in the sky, flying directly towards his balcony. After a few seconds, the silhouette became clearer and Kay identified it as a rook. Not completely uncommon in cities, but what was definitely uncommon was that he headed straight for the turtledove nest. The male had spotted the rook too and protectively placed himself in front of the female one and the eggs their nest housed.

The black bird landed respectfully within distance of the nest and Kay could swear he saw the turtledoves relax. It was a curious thought, but they apparently knew the rook. Opening his beak, the new bird began to crow immediately and even though Kay couldn’t speak Bird or Rook, it felt like the speech was hasty, urgent and even a bit… anxious?

His fascination only grew when he saw the turtledoves' reaction. For a moment, the eyes of the female one went big with worry and subconsciously she peered down on her two eggs, before a steely resolve so similar to humans took her over. The male reacted more calmly, but he started fidgeting and opened his beak.

His dinner and his tea long forgotten, Kay watched the two of them talk without understanding a word and still thinking the conversation to be more interesting than anything humans had ever produced while he was around.

In the end, the turtledoves bowed their heads toward the rook, who seemed rather abashed by such gratitude. The female turtledove suddenly spread her wings and flew to the balcony to their left. Kay knew the particular flat had been empty and used as a storage room (which meant: no noisy neighbors). With an act of sheer will and strength he never believed to see a bird commit, she heaved a cushioned carapace from the balcony table and, carrying it in her beak, brought it over to the balcony and placing it next to her nest.

It took nearly five minutes of intense discussions, but finally, the rook settled down next to the turtledove pair in his new home. Kay watched them talk with each other till the sun went down and they were no longer clearly visible.

When he went back to the microwave, he had lost his appetite for chicken.

* * *

The most frequent accusation William Tarkin had to deal with was that he was overzealous and too extreme when it came to reaching his goals. But even the most patient person would support his decision now.

He had arrived at the “Ugly Cat Alley” (real name: Penny Lane of Jackson Boulevard) at the end of his tour and to his anger, it was a mess again. At least five trash cans were overturned, their contents littering the alley. It would take at least half an hour to clean the mess and that meant he would miss the beginning of his favorite TV show, “The Imperials”.

William was in the right mood to wreak his anger on the annoying feline, but this time, the beast was nowhere to be found. For once, it hadn’t stayed at the scene of the crime and given him condescending looks. Maybe the animal was smarter than he gave it credit for and had realized that another meeting with the garbage man would spell calamity for it.

Tarkin had just started picking up the trash with his gloves when he spotted his feline arch-nemesis on the other site of the street. The ugly and fat beast was trying to climb a drainpipe, undoubtedly to terrorize the citizens of the building. He wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Looking around, he found a rather pleasant apple, a bit old maybe, but not entirely disgusting. Calculating distance, wind velocity and several other factors, he launched his projectile at the cat, carefully “leading” his target.

The result was better than expected: His aim had been excellent. The cat had just reached the second floor when the half-rotten projectile hit it straight at the back of his head. Doubtlessly concussed, it lost its grip on the drainpipe, crashing into the ground below - where a pile of unidentifiable garbage was waiting for it. It shook itself before peering around, but it couldn’t spot an evilly smiling Tarkin in the alley on the other side of the road, thanks to the dense traffic. Shaking itself with disgust, the cat departed, most likely looking for a place to clean itself.

Tarkin’s grind had turned his face into a mask that came straight out of a horror movie, but it remained etched into it until he went to sleep that night, very satisfied with himself. And the latest episode of “The Imperials” of course.


	5. The Waste Bucket Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further aid is on the way to help our heroes. Also, an unexpected ally in the fight against cat Krennic appears...

* * *

 

A part of Kay had to admit that he admired the birds on his balcony. Every day after he came home from work, he would check on them and despite claiming the opposite inside his mind, continue to monitor them until it was too dark to see.

He admired them for their work ethic. Or breeding ethic? Whatever the correct term was, there were always two of them guarding the nest and one searching for food. Once the bird came back, he or she sometimes carried a worm or other nourishment to share with the guards of the nest. Every time the male and the female separated, they would hug each other tightly - at least that was what it looked like for Kay - purr and then leave reluctantly. And every time, Kay would feel like he was intruding.

September was coming and according to Kay’s internet research, the eggs should be hatching soon. Brooding season would be over by the end of August and turtledoves were migrating birds. But the chicks hat yet to hatch and the adult birds surely wouldn’t leave until their young were able to fly?

He scoffed internally. The only reason he cared about that was because once they left, peace and quiet would return for Kay.

But even he knew it was a lie.

* * *

Many miles away, outside of the town, Bird Galen was getting more and more worried.

The original plan would have been simple. Bodhi would warn Jyn and Cassian about Cat Krennic and invite them to the strip of land where Baze and Chirrut and now Galen and Lyra had settled down. They would be safe here, able to raise their chicks away from the dangers of the city. Away from Krennic. The cat was a city-dweller, a scavenger living off the scraps he found in alleys and trash cans. Out here, the cat would have to hunt himself. That would be too much of a bother for some petty revenge. At least he had hoped so.

But now, Bodhi had been gone for ten days and he hadn’t heard a word of him. Did he stay with Jyn and Cassian? Was he lost on the way? Did Krennic get him first? Did Krennic get them all? Had their chicks already hatched? What had happened to them?

Plagued by worries and dark thoughts, Galen patrolled the boundaries of the premises, keeping an eye out for Bodhi or his daughter. Saw and his goons did not interfere. Their leader hadn’t forgotten the lecture Lyra had given him.

But no sign came. He knew that Lyra worried just the same and after the second day, they had started to fly around together. They shared their sorrows like they shared everything else. It wasn’t easier, but they found some comfort in each other.

Unbeknownst to them, they were watched.

Well, not strictly speaking, as the bird in question was mysterious. Some said he had lost his eyesight long ago, but nobody was sure and nobody was asking him. Nobody asked him questions at all. Not about how he found the premise, how he knew so much and how he was living with another male bird.

His name was Chirrut and he was an owl. As a short-eared owl, Chirrut was a bird that could be active at day just as well as during the night. Maybe that explained why Chirrut seemed to know everything that was going on in the area.

He watched Galen fidgeting and staring at the horizon for days and the old bird’s heart was laced with sorrow. Chirrut never had chicks of his own. It hadn’t been possible. But he nevertheless cared about all younger birds, no matter what species. Bodhi, even Galen and Lyra, although he wasn’t much older than them.

Another thing Chirrut didn’t like was waiting when something could be done. Turning his head precisely ninety degrees to right, he extended his wing and gave the owl on his right a gentle nudge. It took two more of these nudges until the other bird opened his eyes, clearly tired and mildly annoyed.

Baze and Chirrut were a unit and no bird had ever seen them apart. Baze was a fish owl, a strange bird in this part of the world, but he would follow Chirrut everywhere. It was a fact, something that was as sure as the rising and sinking of the sun.

Baze had been awake for quite some time, preferring to keep his eyes closed nevertheless to annoy Chirrut a bit. A bird equivalent of a sigh could be heard once he focused his attention on his partner.

_“If you want to go, you need luck,”_ he said.

Chirrut just rotated his head one time around completely, as if to roll his eyes at the mere suggestion Baze wouldn’t follow him.

_“I don’t need luck. I have you,_ ” was his simple reply before he spread his wings and took off towards the city.

Baze sighed deeply before following Chirrut’s example and launching himself into the sky.

* * *

Miss Parkinson didn’t hate cats. Not really.

Strictly speaking, she hated cat owners. Not all of them. Only those who were too lazy, too stupid or simply didn’t care about disciplining their pet.

It had been a problem in her old flat, which was connected to the neighboring flat through a balcony. Despite all attempts to block the way, the neighbor’s cat - a fat, spoiled and lazy being - had managed to invade her room time after time, scratching the furniture, bowling over everything that wasn’t nailed down and leaving hairs all over the place.

Nothing had helped. Not complaining to the neighbour, to the landlord. In the end, it hadn’t been the only reason why she moved away, but among the Top Five (other’s included the fact that the apartment was costly, too far away from work and that the landlord was kind of a skirt chaser).

The ugly white cat that prowled the vicinity of her new living space was an unwelcome reminder of those days. She had no idea why the animal was so fixated on this building, she only knew every time she would glance out of the main window, she would be able to spot the cat lingering around, hidden behind trash cans, waiting in the shadows or prowling on the pavement. It made Miss Parkinson suspicious.

So when she saw the cat climbing the drainpipe passing her balcony, she had sprinted towards the kitchen, gathering a bucket full of putrescible waste. Filling it up with water, she arrived on the balcony just in time to see the cat getting hit in the head by a rotten fruit. Miss Parkinson was not an advocate for violence against animals, but she had enjoyed seeing the cat topple down on the street, right into a dirty puddle.

But she had kept the bucket at the ready, right next to the balcony door.

It was a warm summer evening and she was smoking her last cigarette ever. (Fine. It was her last but one cigarette. She would smoke another one two weeks later after a particular stressful conference at work.)

She had finally begun to quit smoking after moving into her new flat, swearing that the cozy apartment wouldn’t suffer the cold stench of smoke. So the only times she gave in to her addiction for nicotine, she would do so on the balcony.

She was nearly finished, taking the last few drags, when she spotted the cat again. It had been hidden by the shadows of the alley vis-à-vis, but suddenly bolted across the empty street. Miss Parkinson was surprised. She would never have thought the fat animal could move so fast. The destination was clear. With a mighty jump, the cat threw itself against the wall of the house, quickly climbing the drainpipe.

But the cat had reckoned without her host. To be precisely, without Miss Parkinson, who couldn’t hide an evil smile as she dumped the content of her bucket onto the unlucky animal.

Once more, cat Krennic fell down, hitting the pavement with a thud.

It felt like a personal victory for Penelope Parkinson. It seemed like the dreadful chapter that had been living in her old apartment was finally over.


	6. Jim’s Chimney Sweepers - We sweep you away!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While new allies make their way towards the nest, Cat Krennic proves to be a cunning enemy.

* * *

Finding Jyn and Cassian hadn’t been easy. Chirrut had preferred to leave immediately without asking Galen if he knew where his child would be nesting. Baze grumbled during the flight, in part because Chirrut had picked the day hours - Baze’s resting time. It was even more infuriating considering he knew it made no difference for Chirrut. Illness had trapped his partner in a permanent darkness.

Still, Chirrut was more than capable. His other senses were keen and primed, especially his hearing. It never ceased to amaze Baze how Chirrut managed to fly even through the chaos of the city.

He hid his admiration between a tired and annoyed expression, especially once Chirrut continued to dodge his questions about the destination of their mission. Chirrut just spun his head around - mid-flight! - and only whistled something about “everything is as nature wills it.”

As it was said, Chirrut was infuriating. But he was never arrogant, condescending or farouche. Much of Baze’s annoyance was acting. The rest… Well, after so many years, he had lost hope Chirrut would change.

He didn’t want him to.

* * *

A large problem for the guards of the turtledove nest was the fact neither of them - the turtledoves Jyn and Cassian and the rook Bodhi - were nocturnal birds. They saw well enough at night, sure, but not as well as their feline adversary.

Despite his many faults, cat Krennic wasn’t dumb. He might not have been the shrewdest tactician and strategist, but he was capable enough to exploit his strengths.

Right now, the situation was dire. The chicks had yet to hatch. While this meant they only needed food for themselves right now, the situation resulted in other problems. One of them - preferably one of the doves - had to stay and incubate the eggs while another remained with the nest as protection, leaving only one of the trio to search for food. Right now, they took longer shifts, but as soon as the chicks were finally there, the need for nutrition would explode and the shifts would be shorter. They even would have to consider leaving their newborns with only one guard.

It was a careful balance between protection from predators and preventing starvation.

Shortly after Bodhi flew away and left Jyn and Cassian alone in the nest, the female bird carefully stroked her eggs with one of her wings, her eyes filled with worry. Their chicks were long overdue. Why didn’t they hatch? Were they ill? Otherwise impaired? Or even dead?

Cassian gently nudged her back, calm, but worried nonetheless. Time was running out if they wanted to take their new family south before the winter came. The chicks would need at least three weeks of ceaseless pampering to be flight-ready and the first snow clouds were forming in the sky.

Time was running out for the little family.

* * *

Kay never thought he would see the day where statistics failed him. Statistically speaking, it was impossible that it would happen.

But these birds on his balcony continued to defy every single expectation even a birding amateur such as he had.

Point One: They had befriended - and Kay had fought tooth and nail against using this term but had lost - a rook.

That wasn’t meant to happen. Birds did not befriend birds of another feather. Sure, they existed in the same habitats,  but no close interaction. He had checked the internet and once that had failed him - yet another event he’d never thought to witness - he had checked every book about birds in the local library.

If Kay believed in any form of ecclesial power, deities or religion, he would have been convinced some unknown, higher force had placed these birds on his balcony to test and destroy his believes. He didn’t, yet they still drove him crazy.

The birds did not just interact, they talked with each other. Kay had spent several days a week - he actually took days off, something he had never done previously, why would he? - closely monitoring the nest, taking notes on their schedule, behavior and everything else. It had been relaxing, to be honest.

His observations produced the following facts: The three birds regularly swapped places - one guarded the eggs, one guarded the balcony and one went out, most likely for food. At night, one would sleep and two would be awake, eyes on the street and sometimes even the roof. Kay doubted other flying predators would target the nest - the possibility for such an attack was below two percent - but he admired their thoroughness all the same.

Point Two: They behaved like humans. Kay had always found it hard to discern what people were feeling based on their facial expressions, body language and what they actually said. But when he looked at the birds, for the first time in his life, the expressions made sense: He could perceive sorrow, worries, joy and even humour.

A part of him suddenly yearned to feel the same.

* * *

James “Jim” Aaron Molamure the Third wasn’t entirely content with the fact he had inherited his father (and grandfather’s) business. Sure, it was nice to have a job no matter what happened, yet he always felt his life and his career choices had been predetermined decades before he was born: Back in the 1920s when his grandfather had started the business.

The Molamures were hard-working, diligent and fair and these traits had ensured their company endured, even though chimneys - especially those of houses with woodstoves - had become rarer and rarer throughout the years. There wasn’t that much money anymore in cleaning chimneys, but that also meant there was little to no competition. And the city was still big enough for Jim’s Chimney Sweepers to make a tidy sum each and every year. Enough to keep their workers employed and enough to allow Jim to live a comfortable life.

Still, he yearned for the opportunity to explore different paths. Being the boss of a family business meant little to no time for himself. His customers knew him since he was a boy and accompanied his father and grandfather on their tours. These people had grown old and even more fond of their younger days. That was part of the reason why they only trusted him. As a result, he had to take a few tours every day, visit certain customers.

It had its advantages. Sometimes, he just accompanied one of his employees, who actually did the work and the owners would invite him in for tea, biscuits, cake and a friendly conversation. After a dozen or so talks, he knew how to stay away from certain themes old people liked to discuss and had rather strong opinions on Jim didn’t share. (Immigration was one, taxes and clothes another. Not to mention gender issues and the entire LGBT movement.)

Today was different. One of his employees had to cancel due to the flu and Jim was originally on office duty. In a family business, that also meant he was their only reserve for situations like this.

Truth be told, he was in his prime age. Even so, the building in questions was seven stories tall, situated in a rather busy street and as such not high on his list of workplaces he preferred. Everything over three stories gave him a weird feeling. He wasn’t scared of heights -- Jim had been exposed to them since age 14 -- yet he never embraced the life of a chimney sweeper and felt more comfortable with smaller houses.

Which was why he was in a bit of a foul mood. Although the edifice housed a large number of apartments, only two or three had wood fired ovens and the system of vents linked to the chimney was complex, which meant he sometimes had to scour branched parts of the vents that were far from accessible.

Jim had spent almost the entire afternoon with cleaning one such vent and was tired, dirty, exhausted and frustrated. Granted, it was his only task for today, but the additional sum he would collect for such a difficult procedure was meagre.

His mood had gone south when he climbed down the slanted roof towards his ladder and it went even further down when he saw an ugly white cat blocking his way.

The animal didn’t bother to move, instead looking at him like he wasn’t a living being, but a piece of trash. Jim had never felt so despised by any creature or human and it was a vibe he didn’t need today.

Still, he was no murderer. His grandmother had told him you couldn’t kill a cat by throwing it from a roof, no matter the height. But his grandmother had also told him her neighbor Agathe rode a broom and brewed potions in her cellar, so he wasn’t willing to risk the life of even a very annoying cat on her slightly unreliable word.

The cat refused to move despite his various attempts to shush or frighten it. Finally at his wit’s end, he grabbed the long broom he used for cleaning the easily reachable parts of the chimney and poked the cat with it. After a day of being used, it was dirty, covered completely with ash and soot.

It was almost comical how the phlegmatic animal suddenly became lively and shrieked back. Unfortunately, it had forgotten how close it was to edge of the roof and it disappeared from his view.

Jim did not rush towards the roof’s edge to check on the animal, despite feeling guilty. Bolting would get him killed. When he eventually climbed on his ladder, the animal was nowhere to be seen. Taking it as an indication it had somehow survived its fall, he slept a bit easier that night.

Little did he know that not only the cat had survived, but that he had traversed a diabolical plan by the feline creature to attack a certain bird pair’s nest from above.


End file.
